Hidden Shadows
by Rjalker
Summary: Marona Katz isn't just going to sit idly by while her daughter is missing.


Marona was worried. She was beyond worried. Keirsil was pacing up and down the small room they'd been asked to wait in, oblivious to Caeraen's admonitions to sit still.

She couldn't stand the waiting.

Their daughter was missing, had been missing for three, almost four days now, and no one knew what had happened to her.

Her jaw clenched, resisting the urge to bite her nails, she joined her daemon in pacing, her anger warring with her worry until she wasn't sure which one she was feeling the strongest.

All she knew was that if someone didn't come in to explain to them what was happening within five minutes, she was going to break down the door and find whoever knew the most, and demand that they tell her.

Fortunately, she didn't have to wait much longer before her ears caught the sound of footsteps, and stopped her pacing, her daemon pausing at her feet, before jumping into her arms. A minute later, Caeraen heard the sound as well, and alerted David.

By the time the footsteps reached the door, her husband and his daemon were on their feet as well, Caeraen's fur twitching with suddenly renewed anxiety.

The man who opened the door was dark-skinned and twice both their sizes, and his face was grave. His daemon was a bloodhound who gazed at them all carefully, her ears lowered and tail still.

"Mr. and Mrs. Katz." The man greeted them, his voice rueful, "Please, if you'll just come into my office."

He stood back, and gestured them through the door. He led them through a short hall, before indicating a large room at the end.

Her face set in stone, Marona went through first, Keirsil leaping from her arms to take his place beneath the chair she chose so that he could watch the bloodhound from out of sight behind her legs.

Her husband came in after her, and sat down in the free chair, Caeraen perching in his lap and curling her paws beneath her chest in a pretense of calm. The bloodhound studied the cat closely, and Keirsil watched the dog even closer.

The man who had led them into the office sat behind the desk, and sighed. "My name is Jack Crawford." He said, folding his hands infront of him, "As you know, your daughter is part of my team, and we're going to do everything we can to find her."

Marona's patience had worn thin. "Just tell us what you know," She said, struggling to keep the sharpness from her voice that was filling her insides with anger and dread. "You have a serial killer on the loose." She said flatly, "You don't need to coddle us."

David nodded, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

The man named Jack seemed to hesitate for a moment, then leaned forward to match her husband, though his gaze switched between the two of them. "Your daughter was last seen in the hospital room of Abigail Hobbs. She left the room, and security footage has her leaving the hospital a few minutes later, but after that…we lost her. Her car was found still in the hospital's parking lot, which means she was taken before she could get to it."

"Who was she with?" It was David who demanded more information this time, his voice sharp. "You said she was last seen in that girl's room. But it's all over the news that she's still in a coma. Who was in the room with her? Who saw her leave?"

Marona's eyes narrowed as she watched the man's reaction.

He seemed wary of the sudden bombardment of questions, but answered calmly, "A colleague of mine, a therapist by the name of Hannibal Lecter. He's been working closely with the case concerning Abigail Hobbs. He was there to visit her, at the same time that Beverly was. He said that they spoke for a few minutes, before she left." He frowned, his brow lowering slightly. "He said that she appeared unwell, and now wishes that he had offered to drive her home."

A soft growl built in the back of Keirsil's throat, and Marona narrowed her eyes in suspicion. The name rang bells in the back of her mind, but she couldn't for the life of her place where she had heard it.

"What about her cell phone?" She asked, closing her eyes for a moment to calm the impatience stirring in her blood before it got the better of her, "Can't you track it? She never goes anywhere without it."

When she opened her eyes again, the man's frown was deeper, his eyes darker with regret. "Unfortunately," He said, shifting in his seat, "We already tried that, and traced the signal back to the hospital room. It seems she left it there by accident without anyone noticing."

Marona was left speechless. No, no, that wasn't possible. The moment she had gotten her daughter a phone when she was thirteen, she had impressed it upon her how important was that she always have it with her. She had even bought her a holster for it on her hip. Beverly had never left it anywhere.

David knew the same, and his face dropped with worry. "That—that's not like her." He said, "This—Hannibal? How sick exactly did he say she looked? You said he wanted to offer her a ride home?"

The question he hadn't asked hung in Marona's mind. If their daughter had been sick enough for such concern, then why hadn't the man offered to drive her home? If he was as close to the case as Jack said he was, that meant that he would have known Beverly. But how close were they? Enough that he would think to offer such a thing, but not enough that she would accept it?

Keirsil growled again, just barely, and Marona crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing in deep thought.

Jack Crawford didn't have much more to tell them, after that, and the conversation ended a few minutes later with the promise that he and his team were going to do everything in their power to find their daughter.

The drive back to the hotel room they had booked was quiet, and Marona was able to drive and think at the same time without trouble.

Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal Lecter. Where had she heard the name before?

Something…Something to do with one of her siblings? Immediately, she knew that she was right. One of them had definitely met him before. But which one?

As though reading her thoughts, David spoke up. "Does this have anything to do with your family?" The words themselves could have been accusing, had they gone with any other tone, but it was obvious that they were not. David wasn't blaming her, just asking a simple question.

Keirsil answered for her, from the backseat where he and Caeraen sat next to each other. "It might." He said, "The name of the therapist sounds familiar."

"We'll call once we get back to the hotel," Marona said, making a mental note to remember, "It might be nothing, though."

She didn't mention the fact that Roy, out of all of her siblings, was the one she associated most with the name.

Her jaw clenched, and she focused on the road once more, bringing the short conversation to an end, unwilling to speak more until they got back to the hotel.

It was only a vague recollection that pointed her in that particular brother's direction.

There was no need to worry her husband further until she had proof.

The phone call was short, and filled with emotion. Her sister Elista was shocked to hear that Beverly was missing, and wasted no time in getting in contact with the others and searching for anyone who recognized the name Hannibal Lecter.

Unfortunately, it didn't take long to get results. Elista's breath caught audibly in her throat even over the phone line, and dread settled deep into Marona's bones.

"It's Roy, isn't it?" She barely found the strength to use her voice, but forced herself to calm down. Even if Roy knew the name, that…that didn't mean anything. Roy knew a lot of names.

Her sister's voice came out as a whisper, "Y—yeah. 2008. You remember his hiking trip?"

The question didn't need an answer. Of course she did. Everyone did.

"Please don't tell me—"

Elista interrupted before she could even finish the sentence, "No, no, nothing like that. It was killed by the two park rangers that went with him. But he went back to the cave after they left, and found where it kept the things it owned. Among the clothes was a business card. Dr. Lecter's business card." She hesitated for a moment, then hurried on, "You know, it might not mean anything. The guy's a therapist, right? Maybe it went to him but he couldn't help it?"

Keirsil's weight settled in her lap as she sat on the bed, comforting as she rested her free hand on his back. "Yeah," She allowed, trying to hide her worry, "Maybe you're right. Well, I've got to go. I'll keep you updated. Tell the others I said hi."

"Good luck, Marona."

And with that, the call was ended.

David sensed her weariness, and spoke softly. "Roy?"

Marona dropped her head into her hands. "Roy." She confirmed with a tired sigh, before looking up at him. "Have you ever heard of a wendigo?"

David raised one eyebrow, and Caeraen tilted her head to the side. "Uh," He hummed for a moment as he came to sit next to her. "Vaguely. Native American spirit, right? I think I read somewhere as a kid that they're huge, and constantly on the edge of starvation. They…" He frowned, "Uh. They became cannibals, and because of their crime, they have to keep eating." He looked at her for confirmation.

She nodded, her face serious.

David sighed loudly, and it was his turn to drop his head into his hands. "And…Garret Jacob Hobbs was a cannibal. And so is the Chesapeake Ripper. That—that's just great. Let me guess, Roy got himself killed by a wendigo?"

There was no point in answering, and he wasn't expecting one.

"He went back after it was killed by park rangers and found where it kept its things. It had one of Lecter's business cards." She explained.

David laughed, once, his voice half bitter. "This Hannibal must not be a very good therapist then."

Caeraen gave a soft meow in agreement, and butted her head against his arm.

Marona wished she could share in his humor, but worry was tying her stomach into knots and making it hard to speak. Keirsil dug his claws lightly int her leg, giving her something to focus on.

"Maybe it's just a coincidence." She said softly, not even believing the words were rolling off her tongue. Coincidence? In their life? There was no such thing.

David scoffed, and she knew he was thinking the same thing.

That night, after David and Caeraen had fallen asleep, and only Marona and Keireil were left lying awake, she closed her eyes, and focused her thoughts on her daughter.

We're going to find you. Stay strong.

Her dreams, when she slept, were filled with twisting darkness and humanoid monsters whose roars chased her through a forest of dead trees and blood-stained dirt, and she awoke with a gasp of horror when her brother's body was dropped from one of the trees, lifeless and torn open, with staring, blank, eyes.

But she was able to calm herself quickly, reminding herself that it was only a dream, that her brother had been killed, but he wasn't dead, and the next time she went to visit her family he was probably going to have fifty new horrifying stories to share with her.

And then she got dressed, and brushed Keirsil's fur, and woke her husband only briefly to let him know that she was going out.

They were going to visit Dr. Lecter, and find out everything he knew about her daughter's disappearance.


End file.
